A WAW- and stress-free day. No texts, no emails. I scanned all of our old tax documents to give to The Mouthpiece, as WAW'd asked me to leave them out with some things left behind for her to pick up with Themselves tomorrow.
And for The Mouthpiece I also went through some 2,000 recovered e-mails -- amazing what your hard drive saves, sports fans! -- and archived all those from the Post-Bomb Era that had otherwise been deleted.
And while it is true that, upon the reading -- especially of those I'd sent after she'd decided but before she'd dropped The Bomb and I was still doing the "xoxo SP" thing (dramatic irony! get your dramatic irony here!) -- there was a risk of rue, of regret, of remorse, my mojo was pure and my DB kung-fu was strong, and I was able to go through them coolly, analytically, dispassionately, detach-ed-ly.
Dark-a-ly. For the lord of the manor proclaimeth, "Let there be Darkly," and there was Darkly, and it was good.
And though there was, from time-to-time, a hint of an urge, a tickle of an inkling, a bit of peckishness if you will, to maybe just dash off a wee text and taste of the age-old strife, I hied that ol' devil behind me, and I said to myself, "Siddown -- siddown you're rockin' the boat!"
